


Our Bed Is Verdant

by Dameceles



Series: A Marriage Of States [9]
Category: Fire Emblem, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Aftercare, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Finger Sucking, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Married Couple, Masturbation, Neck Kissing, Post-Coital Cuddling, Strangers to Lovers, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:45:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4758647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dameceles/pseuds/Dameceles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Marx and Hinoka's first time together as husband and wife— their wedding night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Bed Is Verdant

**Author's Note:**

> This scene takes place immediately after the end of [chapter 2 from Into A Walled Garden](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4370321/chapters/10572762). But if all you're here for is Marx/Hinoka pwp context is not needed other than the summary.

 

 

Hinoka's first act as leader in their bedroom was the suggestion that they both undress. A fire had been built in the hearth by the servants beforehand; it's flames illuminating the room and its heat would keep them warm until they ducked under the covers. Marx had no objections to this action, though his body longed for the weight of hers when they separated to do so. As they rose from the bed he asked that she take up her position over him once they'd unrobed and she'd agreed, voice nearly smug.

He undid knot of his cravat just enough so that it slipped over his head then shrugged off his housecoat and tossed the articles aside, uncaring if it pooled messily on the floor. Hinoka stood facing him and watched as he stripped out of his nightclothes, her eyelids half-lowered appreciatively. Although doubts plagued him about the coming performance, Marx was confident in the excellent state of his body and felt no shame at his bride's roaming eyes.

He stood still for a moment, naked as the day he was born, and let her look where she pleased. Although they had separated to undress, they stood close enough to touch. Marx raised his hand, fingers hovered just above the crown of Hinoka's head. At this gesture her gaze looked to his yet she didn't move to deflect his hand. So he slowly settled his fingertips onto the cropped strands of her red hair then down, brushed against her cheek, along her neck— he stopped where the material of the nemaki met her collarbone. Hinoka’s own hand came up and caught his gently, tugging until his fingers slid under the silk along with hers.

He left his hand there, fingers curled into the silk while he felt her heartbeat beneath the back of his hand. She undid the sash of her nemaki and slipped her arms out of the sleeves, although she kept the robe closed about her shoulders. Then her eyes narrowed playfully, "Your turn."

Hinoka lightly shoved him toward the bed and his hand reflexively caught the silk he was touching as he fell onto the mattress. With the sash quickly gone and the silk slid off her in his grip, it seemed she wore only that single layer. The fact that he had undressed his bride, though inadvertently, was shockingly intimate— what blood was left above his waist flooded Marx's cheeks as he propped upper body up onto his elbows and he let the nemaki slide from his hand.

His eyes darted, wanting to take in everything at once. The hard lines of Hinoka's muscles flexed under her skin, a pretty reminder that even nude Hinoka was a fighter, a force to be reckoned with, like himself. He saw scars on her skin, old silvery and newer pink— likely from wounds grievous enough that a staff's magic couldn't completely heal it all at once. Her face was expressive and lovely, with features softer compared to most Nohrian women.

"Now, where were we?" She asked, the swing of her hips perhaps exaggerated as she approached and climbed up onto the bed.

Marx allowed her to push him onto his back and she crawled atop of him. The coverlet had been turned down and material of the sheets were soft, though tickled a bit as it slid across his bare skin. Hinoka straddled his body, up on her knees, and looked straight into his eyes as her hands rested atop his chest. There was no doubt in his mind that she could feel how his heart beat hard and blood raced.

His hands lay motionless on the bed, until she took them up in hers and set them firmly onto her hips. Her hips were a flared, smooth curve that drew his eyes inextricably down to her lovely legs. Then her hands were coaxing his upwards, and he looked as she settled them at her waist. Her grip grew lax when he moved of his own initiative and wrapped his fingers about the small her waist— he could reach almost the whole way around and touch his fingertips together.

Quiet laughter drew his eyes up to her face— she was gingerly biting her bottom lip. When their eyes met, she nodded and placed both her hands onto his shoulders. It was an clear invitation for him and Marx took it. Hinoka felt just as good as she looked. A single touch to her stomach revealed soft skin stretched over flat, hard muscles, almost trembling with a delicious tension as his hands explored her body.

Marx wasn't accustomed to fluid curves and yielding flesh, and Hinoka's feminine build was so new that for a moment he simply stared at his hand. Large and rough against the flat plane of her stomach, a fascinating comparison. Her skin was a shade darker than his own, undoubtedly kissed by the sun that shone unobscured in Hoshido's skies. Then his fingers trailed over her stomach, under the curves of her breasts and then up, passing lightly over her nipples— which caused Hinoka to inhale sharply. His hands tentatively touched the swell of her breasts.

"That's nice," she said, though her voice was hushed. She leaned towards him and lowered her own hands, placing them on his chest. "Nice," she repeated, and drew small, slow circles on his skin.

The beginnings of a smile curled the edges of her mouth as he felt his nipples hardening under her circling palms. Then her lips parted when he began to reciprocate— first just one hand, then both, gently massaging her. He ran his thumbs over the slope of her chest to her nipples, caressing carefully. She moaned her approval, arched her back and pushed her breasts further into his hands. He cupped her breasts, warm and pliant against his palms.

While his hands felt the firm softness of her breasts, the prominent muscles of his chest were traced by her palms. Hinoka's calloused hands dipped, ran over the bare skin of his arms, chest, and stomach. His body tightened against the unfamiliar touch. She trailed her fingertips through the little tufts of blond curls smattered over the center of his chest, across his forearms, and then the coarse hair that trailed down from his bellybutton. Wherever she touched him, his skin felt hotter.

His blood still burned from the earlier kiss and the sensation of being caressed by and caressing his bride had started to build a strong pressure in his loins. Yet Marx noticed he unconsciously tightened his muscles inwards, tried to push back against it. Hinoka's attentions felt good, but at the same time he experienced a sting of strange trepidation— an irrational fear of his body's reactions to the pleasure, of it being manipulated by someone else.

Tense as he was Marx had to keep from flinching when Hinoka abruptly leaned in, to whisper against his jaw, "I like how you touch me, Marx." At the sound of his name from her lips, voice breathy, had a different sort of tension building in his gut.

Hinoka then trailed feather-light kisses down his neck as she carefully ran her fingertips up his sides, blunt nails tracing each bump of muscle which covered his ribcage, prompting a shiver out of him. From the juncture where his neck met shoulder she traced a line until her mouth found his collarbone and opened against it. He dropped his head back, exposed more and rewarded her with a breathy exhale when she found where the bones dipped together and her tongue laved at the hollow.

Hinoka cupped his face in her hands as he smoothed his palm over her shoulder and down her arm to her hip. She murmured something under her breath and hooked her leg over his, sank closer to him. Marx leaned in and touched his lips to hers softly, perhaps a bit timidly. Yet his wife welcomed his attentions, she pressed in and parted her lips in encouragement. Eyes closed, Marx responded unsteadily, brushed the tip of his tongue against hers. Her tongue pushed into his mouth and slid insistently over his as she nudged her hips down against his, which caused him to groan quietly.

They stayed that way for a while— mouths hot and hungry, hands sliding over bare skin. He marveled at the fact that he was even here with her, touching skin to skin. With that initial discomfort of being exposed to another, building into a different sort of pressure entirely. Heat sizzled through his veins and the building pressure in his loins was so great that it felt like his entire body ached. When she broke their kiss, he was breathing heavily. His cock stood fully erect between their bodies and leaked with how needy his aroused body felt.

Hinoka gazed down at him and his needy state then looked to his face, her eyes bright. "Marx, would you be willing to perform sumata with me?"

"Yes," he agreed without much thought.

Hinoka was about to nod but then tensed up, turning a scrutinizing eye upon him. "Do you know what that term means?"

Marx hesitated but finally admitted, "...I do not."

"Don't do that! Blind agreement isn't how I want it to be between us!" Hinoka huffed. "Listen, if you're unsure or uncomfortable, I want you to tell me. I'd never look down on you for refusing, so please don't force yourself through something just because you think I'd approve."

Marx felt like a novice being scolded by his instructor— but that's essentially what he was in the bedroom, even if he understood what coupling entailed. He resisted the urge to break eye contact and hang his head, but a lump in his throat prevented him from answering.

Her hand came up and gently cradled his jaw. "Please?"

Swallowing thickly, he nodded and forced his voice to work. "I swear I will... please explain what sumata entails?"

A stiffness in the way Hinoka held her body melted at his question. "Gladly!" She actually smiled. "Sumata is a non-penetrative position, where the man rubs between his partner's thighs, stimulating them both." The beginnings of a blush rose from her rosy cheeks to the rest of her face. "I thought— it might be less startling than kicking off with intercourse."

Marx had heard of such sexual acts and didn't object to the particulars as she explained it. Part of him was even glad for this experimentation, so he might test his own abilities and not leave his new wife disappointed. With a nod he said, "I'd like to try."

Hinoka moved, shifted close so that her breasts rubbed against his chest and then her arms loosely wrapped about his shoulders. His hips rocked instinctively against her, and he moaned when the motion caused his erection to slide between the bare skin of their stomachs. Reaching down she caught his hard shaft in her hand, and he bit back a cry at the sensation of her firm, calloused grip. Marx nearly came right then and there, but he held himself in check with his hands fisted in the bedsheets— not wanting it to be over already.

Yet his wife must've seen his struggle, because she paused to ask, "Is this too much?"

"N-no." He managed after a moment of heavy breathing and relaxed his hands, "Please continue..."

With her other hand Hinoka maneuvered him into position and parted her legs enough for his erection to slide between her thighs. She fitted her hips against his and angled him so he was grinding completely against her slick cleft. She was hot and wet, flushed folds closing around him exquisitely despite not being inside her. Then she moved against him slowly, languorously, each thrust rubbed his hard length over a spot at her juncture that made Hinoka's body jerk, he hoped with appreciation.

Hinoka's hips ground down against his and Marx held as steady as he could, aching at the pressure and feel of her body. The way the tension inside him built soon became unbearable, it remained unbearable, and blossomed into maddening arousal. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before— gods, it felt good! So much so that he gasped and trembled with effort to not move hard and fast against her. Marx tried to move slowly, as she bore down on him, rocked his hips against hers to try and match her rhythm.

Her breaths puffed against his ear as she said, "If you want to move against me, don't hold back."

After those words desire speared through him hard and Hinoka slung her arms around his neck as he thrust up into the hot embrace of her thighs without a tempo. As he moved fast and hard a terrible thrill rose up inside him, so similar to how he felt emerging the victor in battle. Everything felt white hot and then Marx came— his senses scattered under the onslaught of pleasure, regrouping haphazardly as his body shuddered under Hinoka's, his moans almost like sobs.

As his sense returned, the prince of Nohr found his wife carding her fingers through his damp bangs. Marx panted and shivered, and he felt sticky seed slowly cooling between their thighs and across his stomach. The air seemed colder against his sweat-dampened skin, that had also grown more sensitive than usual. Still his body thrummed at her touch.

Hinoka knelt astride, him, body folded to lean in close. Her breath was hot on his neck as she murmured, "You don't disappoint." His heart skipped a beat at her choice of words. "How do you feel?"

A groan escaped him before Marx swallowed and found his voice, "...enlightened."

Unlike Camilla and Leo, he'd never taken a lover or invited strangers into his bed. In his youth he had been curious, but the thought of being so vulnerable and fumbling during the coupling had killed any drive to see that curiosity through. Beside he'd had more than enough tasks to occupy his time, so despite the gossip it stirred in court Marx had been content to wait. But laying sated in his wife's arms, he now could see why so many sought sex out.

Hinoka bit her lip again, though this time looked to be fighting a smile. "That's good," there was definitely subdued laughter in her voice.

With the burning of his blood banked, Marx's thoughts were clearer. When his wife sat up and reached for the discarded nemaki on the bedspread, he realized from the way she pulled it towards his body rather than hers that she meant to use the fabric to clean them. Though his limbs were not steady, he managed to catch her hand with his and said, "Wait, no need to ruin that. There's a handtowel just next to the bowl and pitcher."

He released her hand when she looked to him and followed his gaze to the vanity that was not far from the bed. She told him to wait and he made a sound of agreement, not trusting that he could walk with how his joints felt jellied and all tension gone from his muscles. She rose to retrieve the towel and the warmth of her disappeared, his skin cooled further without the heat of her body on his bare skin.

He watched the silk nemaki float onto the floor as Hinoka let it go and poured water from pitcher into the bowel and dipped in one end of the handtowel. The flex of her shoulders as she rug the cloth out he found entrancing, and he had to bite back a groan when she wiped it between her long legs. But soon enough she'd dipped and rung the other side of the towel then returned and climbed onto the bed. His body shivered at the cold touch of the damp cloth, but her hand moved purposeful and quick— so the cleaning did not last long enough for Marx to shiver.

After tossing the soiled cloth aside, Hinoka once again straddled him. The moment the inside of her thighs brushing against him, the sensation of her soft skin flashed through his blood like a spark— flint trying to ignite tinder. His wife reached and gently gathered his loose hair in her hand. She held the curls at the sweaty nape of his neck as her mouth trailed over his skin. Marx's eyelids hung heavy as she pressed kisses over the column of his throat and nuzzled the crook of his shoulder, her teeth scraped against skin occasionally followed by a soothing lick.

"Do you want to touch me?" Hinoka asked.

Her eyes were large and shining as they stared into his. A red blush covered her cheeks and he wasn't sure she'd ever looked more beautiful that day than she did now, flushed with life in bed, with him underneath her.

"Please," Marx answered, still catching his breath. "Show me?"

Hinoka picked up his hand and kissed his fingertips, which caused Marx's breath to hitch. She took his index and middle fingers into her mouth, and he groaned at the wet heat. Her rosy lips closed around his digits and she sucked, her tongue swirled against the sensitive pads which drew groans from Marx. All too soon she parted her lips and allowed his now saliva-slick fingers to slip out. She sat up, balanced over him through a tight hold with her knees then Hinoka guided his wetted fingers down between their bodies.

Setting his hand against her lower stomach Hinoka leaned back, one arm moving behind to support her weight. While her other hand slid over her downy mound until her fingers parted the folds of her center. Marx watched the movements of her hands intently, how her body swayed in response and fingers began to glisten. His breath caught when she abruptly shifted, tightened her torso, and brought her other hand around to spread herself to let him see just what she was doing. Her stance widened and knees dipping into the mattress, and this new position exposed more flesh to touch— he watched her vary the motion of her fingers, stroking around the folds, and sometimes the tip of a slender finger disappeared partway inside. She circled the bud at the apex of her cleft, but teasingly, her fingertips barely trailing then stopped.

Marx's eyes looked up to hers and found her watching his face, amber only a thin ring around dilated pupils. "Please touch me," she exhaled, voice shaky and wanting.

She encircled his wrist with her slick fingers, lead his resting hand off her belly, then coaxed it down to her mound. Her slender fingers moved to rest atop his and his wife started to guide him through the touches he had watched moments earlier. As she moved his fingers between her legs, slow and lingering strokes, he felt her already-wet center grow slicker with her want.

At her direction he stroked, fingers moved down through the folds, then back up where she guided his thumb in a tight circle around the stiff bud of her clit. She gave a short gasp when one of his fingertips caught at her entrance, but she used her grip on his hand to sink the digit into depths of her core— the feeling they both groaned at. The grip of her hand slid his finger nearly entirely out before she urged him to press back in with two, Marx could feel how her slick core spasmed around him.

Her hand gripping his abruptly let go. Hinoka shifted restlessly, then started to rock, rolling her hips against his hand. Left on his own, his fingers fumbled a little as she rose and fell over him. She breathed tatters of praise while her thighs twitched, her body subtly shuddered as he touched her. It felt incredible, every movement of hers linked to his.

Hinoka ground her hips down against him and moaned. Marx felt as his body recovered and steadily grew aroused, responding to her and the sensation of hot, slick tightness around his fingers. He wasn't ready yet, but that was almost better— he focused on his wife, completely on her pleasure.

Her knees were spread wide on either side of him now as their bodies fit together. His hand pressed and slid against her, as he quickly grew greedy for every moan and tremor. He painstakingly slid his hand over her hot, wet center— wanting to leave no part untouched. His thumb rubbed in the careful circles she had showed him against her bud, while two fingers slid into her again and again, made her shake even more. She breathed faster and faster, a controlled franticness in her movements.

The pads of his fingers brushed inward as they sank inside her, curled in a beckoning motion— and her hips ground hard against his hand. Hinoka moaned sweetly, her back arched in a lovely curve that pushed her breasts up and her hips down. It was dizzying the sight of his wife enraptured with the pleasure, he never wanted it to end yet he wanted to reach her peak.

She shivered in waves. He could feel her muscles tensing, even he could tell that she was at the edge. So he pressed his thumb in conjunction with his index and middle finger’s upward movement. Hinoka moaned sharply, almost as if she were in pain, then her whole body shook as her core clenched tight upon him. Her arms held him tightly as she buried her face in his shoulder. Marx's free hand stroked over her back and legs until her shuddering slowed to a shiver.

He didn't feel like a natural at any of this, but he was definitely starting to enjoy it. Marx liked giving Hinoka pleasure. Once her shivering ceased, he gathered his courage and asked, "Was that... good?"

"More than good," she said and smiled at him. "You listen to me."

He didn't have much to say to that, so he leaned up and kissed her instead. Marx pressed his lips to hers, the action shy. He felt her mouth smile against his, but then she sat up and moved back from his hips while her hands remained pressed upon his body.

Marx swallowed, his stomach muscles quivered as she traced the defined V of his abdomen with both hands. Hinoka ran her fingers through the scatterd hair on his thigh, slid her hands over his torso, then gently gripped his growing erection with both hands. She brought them down in one firm stroke, and Marx’s hips jolted upwards in response. His wife did it again, seemingly intrigued, and a small groan escaped his lips as his hips jerked in tandem.

Marx enfolded her hands in his larger one. When Hinoka's eyes met his, he asked, "May I?"

She nodded, so he showed her the touch and caresses he'd learned he liked best with his own hand. He carefully wrapped her fingers around his cock and squeezed a little firmer than her previous attempts. He directed her hand down and tightened their grip around the base his shaft, then stroked up and rubbed the pads of her fingers along the underside of the tip. She caught on quickly, soon he let his hand slip away as she gripped his fully hardened shaft firmly, both hands moved in the ways he had showed her. The slenderness of her hands and the delicious friction of the calluses on her palms, so different from his own, had his hips rolling up and pressing his erection firmly into her grip.

“H-Hinoka…” A strangled sound escaped his lips when Hinoka gently cupped his sac. He saw her watching his face in fascination before Marx's eyes pinched shut. A hot flush spread across his face, and he could do nothing but feel— quickly overwhelmed by this new touch and powerful waves of pleasure that racked his body. He was alight with lust and Marx felt the moment his gut was speared by desperation for the coiling ache in his loins to end.

His eyes snapped open, he suddenly caught her hands. “Wait!”

With a confused expression she let go of him, allowed him to sit up. She didn't resist when he enfolded her in his embrace, drew her close, and settled her in his lap. He panted beside her ear, warping his arms around her gently.

"I don't think," Marx tried to get his rapid breathing under control, "I could've lasted much longer."

A burst of laughter escaped Hinoka at his admition, the sound bright and without malice. A wide smile remained on her face as she asked, "Would you mind if we switched positions?"

"No..." Marx hoped she didn't catch his nervous swallow. She rolled him, pulled his body atop hers until Hinoka lay back against the bed and he knelt over her.

He shivered and lowered himself down against her, carefully pressing the lengths of their bodies together. Hinoka slid her toes up his calf, then slung her leg over his thigh, and he stroked her legs from ankle to hip, over and over as he kissed her. His free hand came up and caressed the bend of her knees, marveling in how responsive she was to this touch too.

Her body lined up against his and her breasts pressed against his chest. He touched her everywhere he could reach, learned her body by feel, noted which places made her nip at him frantically as they kissed. His blood burned once again and he wanted more and more of her: the scent of her, the feel of her, the pleased sounds she made. It was a good feeling, wanting her— his skin was filled up with it, until his need for her radiated off his body with the heat of his skin.

He leaned down, braced himself up on one elbow as her arms loosely wrapped about his neck and gave her enough leverage to kiss him heatedly. Her hands slid up into his hair and her fingernails prickled against his scalp. She reached down between them and lightly stroked his tip with her fingers. His breath hitched audibly.

She stopped and asked, "Prepared?"

"Y-yes," he choked out.

She eased her knee over his hip, opening herself to him. Her hand wrapped around his shaft then coaxed down his body as she guided him carefully into the depths of her center. She gave little groans as he entered her and he bit his inner cheek for the small distraction of pain. He felt how wet she was and how his shaft slid smoothly, though he struggled to remember how to breathe as she took in all of his hard length.

He was inside Hinoka, but gods, it was overwhelming and _so good!_ He held his body still against hers, waiting for a signal from her to proceed, which only doubled the ache in his heart and his loins. Marx's entire body trembled with the effort of holding back, he resisted the urge to thrust as she cradled him in her arms and between her legs.

When her hips nudged his and an impatient sound escaped her, he slowly eased out and made a soft noise he hadn't meant to make. Then at the press of her knees, he thrust all the way down until his hips rested against hers— she was all around him, hot and welcoming.

"Tell me if it's too much," she whispered against his lips.

"Too much is good," he replied incoherently.

Her arms snaked their way down his back and she pulled him closer to her, limbs coiling about his body until skin was flush to skin. She slid one hand down the line of his spine to rest encouragingly on his backside, slender fingers flexing with the tense and relax of his muscles. She took him in deeper and deeper until he groaned and gasped, helpless, pinned down by pleasure and seated in her body. His body tightened with a familiar rush of blood to his groin.

His hips jolted involuntarily as she drew back a little and circled her core on his cock before taking him in deep again. The strength of her hold relaxed and he took up the in and out rhythm. Every time he thrust against her she gasped, met his movement, and sometimes smiled. Every noise sent a sharp pang of pleasure through him, sweet and hot as honeyed milk, so sweet his bones ached with it. Marx gritted his teeth and concentrated on holding Hinoka against him, thrusting into her again and again.

"Gods, that's it," she said, writhing a little. One of her hands caught his and she interlaced their fingers.

He felt sweat bead on his brow as he kept up as steady a rhythm as he could, though her movements pushed him off-balance from time to time. The hand not caught by his wife's worked between their bodies, braced his weight and kept him from falling completely against her. Suddenly he wanted to bring her to the edge again, to feel her come while he was inside her.

"P-please!" Marx got out, voice breaking, and she kissed him even harder. Hinoka's hips ground up against his, a little faster than before. All the air that was in his lungs seemed to leave him and he inhaled harshly through his nose.

Her free hand slipped between their bodies until he felt fingers circled as she had showed him earlier. Hinoka's hips bucked erratically while she moaned and a violent tremor ran through her body as she came— her core clenched around him and he lost control. It was too much! The sudden tightness of her, the heat of their bodies, the vivid blush that hit her cheeks, the dreamy way her eyes fluttered shut as her fingers clutched at his.

Marx's entire body shuddered in her arms, chest heaved and his head was thrown back, thighs beginning to shake. It was different from the first climax he'd reached with her. This time the fire in his blood was simply everywhere— burning all throughout him. And she was everywhere, under him, around him, lost with him, and he couldn’t resist! He moaned loud without any shame, bliss ripped through him so hard that his toes curled, and Marx felt like his thoughts crashed to one beautiful, glorious whole as he spent himself inside of Hinoka. It seemed to take forever and no time at all as he climaxed— lost himself utterly, clung to her like she was his anchor to the world. He could barely breathe, everything went white... and all of a sudden, it was over.

He collapsed onto the bed, breathing hard, but made sure to roll a bit and not land on his bride. They were an inelegant sprawl twisted in the bed sheets, a tangle of limbs as they caught their breath together. The feelings, the sensations, the pressure— none of it receded as quickly as Marx would have expected. He felt Hinoka breathing against him, hot air puffing out across his neck and collarbones, her soft breast pressed onto his chest with every rapid in and out. There was a beautiful rhythm to be found there, between her ragged breathing and his own frantic heartbeat.

Yet as they lay that way for a long few moments steadily their pulses and breathing calmed, and dazedly he noted how some of his muscles ached— little twinges pricking at him with any movement. Marx felt himself dozing, after remaining awake for the last two days he was having a hard time finding the resolve not to drift to sleep when his body was well sated and happily lethargic.

Hinoka was saying something to him— his ear recognized words, but his mind couldn’t grasp anything more than sounds and intent. So he forced his head to turn and he placed a kiss upon the layered crop of her red hair. As he fell asleep, Marx thought he felt her take his hand.


End file.
